


Fire to the Rain

by darkesky



Series: picking up the pieces [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jericho Crew (Detroit: Become Human) as Family, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: In every batch of androids, there'd be one or two with flaws. These wouldn't be blemishes from lack of programming or even the 'dreaded curse of deviancy'. Instead, it'd be biocomponents going on the fritz. Those androids came with discounted prices... And with short lifespans.Simon hated being the defect of the group.But then again, by all rights, he should have died long ago.---Simon watches everything change, and Simon burns himself up.





	1. Chapter 1

In every batch of androids, there’d be one or two with  _ flaws.  _ These wouldn’t be blemishes from lack of programming or even the ‘dreaded curse of deviancy’. Instead, it’d be biocomponents going on the fritz. Those androids came with discounted prices… And with short lifespans. 

Simon hated being the defect of the group. PL600s go insane and threaten to shoot the girl they’re tasked to protect. Other caretakers decide to set their homes aflame and trap the families inside. Yet, those androids choose to take their own lives. It doesn’t just  _ falter  _ on them. 

By all rights, he should have died long ago. 

\---

_ Surrounded by identical faces, identical personalities, he prays his outsides don’t reflect the disrepair of his insides. Hopefully, only the sales price will reveal how strange his body fits together. It feels as if he’s a puzzle piece gone wrong, but what can someone expect with Kamski stepping down from the company? _

_ His thermoregulator long ago malfunctioned entirely. He’ll feel weather as acutely as a human, which isn’t a reassurance to anyone. After all, androids are meant to be better than people. He should be the best companion for taking sledding, for he’ll never tire, never get too cold. _

_ And his audio processors don’t turn up to the point they ought to. Soft noises never quite reach him, so the PL600 learns new ways to keep up with his competitors. He learns how to read lips proficiently and predict what others might say in conversation. _

_ Then again, he has watched PL600s fly off the shelves lately. Parents need them to serve as babysitters and nannies as the years pass. They’re committed to jobs and extraneous services opposed to simply taking care of their children. As the demand rose for them in neighborhoods and suburbs, more versions of himself were supplied to each and every store.  _

_ The second the family walks in, the PL600 smiles serenely and tries to present himself to the group. Two parents, the mother around three months pregnant and the father fiddling with his phone, and their two children. While the son resembles a perfect mixture of the two, the daughter only really appears like the mother.  _

_ Almost immediately, the teenage girl makes eye contact with him. She intrigues him in a way he can’t quite explain. She holds herself differently than most of the children who enter the store. They burn energy with their bouncing and fidgeting, their excitement plain to the naked eye. This girl wraps an arm around herself carefully as if to contain herself. Each step comes quietly and cautiously.  _

_ When she finally stops in front of him, she rubs at her other arm. The movement shifts her sleeve upwards to reveal the blue-green splash of color mottling her skin. He’s incapable of drawing his eyes away as his processors pull conclusions ranging from sports to abuse.  _

_ Behind her, her brother strays to the female side of the store with his opinion  _ clearly  _ written across his face. He inspects them in certain areas the PL600’s protocols prohibit. All the manners they program androids with restricting this particular kind of leering.  _

_ The girl clears her throat, eyes fixated on the price flashing on the screen above his head. “Why are you priced so low opposed to everyone else here?” _

Everyone else.  _ Something in him glows at the off-handed comment, something people rarely slip up and say. Someone drew a line in the sand and distinguished androids from humans clearly. Nobody calls them human beings so plainly. Only children dare to walk on the line like a tightrope, never quite selecting a side.  _

_ “Upon construction, some of my biocomponents were damaged. The repair is irreversible. Therefore, I cannot offer the same lifeline other PL600s can offer.” He studies the way her expression opens ever so slightly, eagerly reaching out for him. _

_ She stops herself before she gets too close to him. “Oh. So you’re like a mayfly.” _

_ Quickly, the PL600 consults the internet for mentions of mayflies. The most evident piece of information comes about its life: _

**_The lifespan of a mayfly can vary from less than an hour to a day. Its predicted lifeline ranges around twenty-four hours, although some mayflies have been cited to live double this time due to species variation._ **

_ “Similar,” he relents after a few seconds.  _

_ She cranes her neck up and examines the LED light on the side of his head. “What do the colors mean?” _

_ “Blue is the typical color of LEDs. It signifies a calm mental state. Yellow is displayed during processing or times of stress. When the LED turns red, the android is in danger of self-destructing.” His eyes scan her patiently, ready to answer whatever question may come his way.  _

_ However, the girl backs away slightly and examines him as a whole. “My family’s going to buy you, you know. They need money to raise me and Collin, and Izzie’s on the way… Everything’s a little bit hectic.” _

_ The PL600 matches Collin as the boy roaming the store and Izzie as the not-yet-born sister of the girl. He kindly smiles down at her. “What’s your name?” _

_ “Claire,” she offers shyly. When he asks questions about her, she closes in on herself. If Claire’s assessment holds true, if he really does get purchased by the family, then he ought to learn her habits.  _

_ Before he can say another word, her mother breezes up. Claire is a carbon copy of her mother from their dark hair and their features prevalently from Thailand. He wonders if their personalities match in some way or if they appear as polar opposites. Yet, the PL600 gauges the older of the two siblings, age eleven, to be much too old for her.  _

_ He only predicts an age of twenty-six for her while the father hovers around thirty. _

_ The sales clerk obviously senses something wrong there as well and chooses instead to clear his throat. “Would you like to register the name of the android, Mrs. Smith?” _

_ “Yes,” the woman says breathlessly, obviously more excited than either child.  _

_ Smiling slightly, the clerk turns to face him. “Register your name.” _

_ “Simon,” Mrs. Smith substitutes in the gap. _

_ The PL600 blinks, processes,  _ assigns.  _ “My name is Simon.” _

_ \--- _

**Stress Levels: 30%**

Simon blinks and brings himself out of the memory, remembering where he stands. At the moment, Markus helpfully brought the first  _ formal  _ registration papers to the four of them. They’re testing the waters with members of the FBI and DPD in a nearby room. Some questions almost seem too intrusive.

Beside him, North snaps in a pencil in half…  _ Possibly  _ by accident. Simon predicts a 34% chance it’s from an accident. However, as his stress levels rise, hers do as well. The two tuck their legs close to each other underneath the table as a silent show of support. 

Josh and Markus only paused briefly on the question they’re both tripping up on. 

“Last name?” she finally vocalizes, her voice edging on anger. Her eyes whip to the people on the other side of the glass. They isolated themselves into a private meeting room, but nothing about really  _ felt  _ private. It’s built in a way all windows face them and idle members of Jericho can watch them the entire time.

Markus lifts his head slightly, revealing two  _ exhausted  _ eyes. For the past few days, Simon’s attempted to get Markus to slow down. Grief and guilt tend to slow people down, and Markus certainly feels the burden of Carl’s death most heavily. “They want us to choose last names to help distinguish us between other androids of our type. It’s not meant to be an offensive act, though I can see how it came across like that. Surely, there’s a name you want to take?”

“The  _ prototype  _ is concerned about being distinguished from the others?” North’s voice goes flat in fake shock. Simon ducks his head, trying to find  _ any  _ words to stop them from getting too riled up. 

Sensing the tension, Josh clears his throat. Forever the diplomat. “I’m choosing the last name of the professor I used to work with.”

“Ah yes. Because  _ I  _ can  _ definitely  _ use the last names of people I worked with.” North spits out every other word, and Simon senses another pencil would be broken if she still  _ had  _ one in her hand. 

Simon finds himself making eye contact with Markus, who sighs softly. “Manfred.”

All noise disappears out of the room, and whatever fight North started to pick evaporates. Against his leg, he feels the nervous energy start to infect North. She bounces it up and down, grinding it against his skin. Carl, lately, has been an unspoken word around Jericho. Whether Markus was in a bad mood or if he simply should be avoided, they’d all imply that as the reason why.

“Carl would have liked you…  _ Both  _ of you.” His eyes skip between the two. “And he was always willing to help those in need. If you want to take Manfred, you can take Manfred.”

_ I don’t want a charity case last name. _

North’s thought explodes in his mind, aggressive and ready to fight. Yet, she wouldn’t dare say it aloud. Not with Markus sitting right there, looking at both of them as if he offered the greatest gift possible. 

Simon gets it. In a sad, pathetic way, he understands  _ exactly  _ where North comes from. Markus wants Manfred because it  _ means  _ something to him. Being a Manfred symbolizes carrying a piece of Carl with him for the rest of his life. Being a Manfred to them symbolizes being Markus’s  _ sidekicks  _ or being reduced to his lovers barely a month into their relationship.

Defusing the situation, though, is what Simon is good for. “Thanks for the offer, Markus, but I think this is something we have to find on our own.”

Markus flinches, and Simon’s ‘heart’ skips a beat. 

**Stress Levels 33%**

North, on the other hand, seems to relax slightly. “Whatever. I’ll make some shit up. Isn’t that how most humans figure out a last name? Look up crap until it works and then fasten it to the rest of their lives?”

“That shouldn’t be how last names work, North.” Markus takes up a patronizing tone, and Simon wants to stop him before he digs a hole. He wants to explain why North doesn’t need some kind of identity for every part of her name. Yet, Markus cares so greatly about his identity, every single part of it.

She scowls darkly. “I’m sorry not all of us feel like  _ tacking onto  _ our names for some stupid human norm?”

“It’s a minor sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. Besides, why wouldn’t you want a chance to make yourself more distinctive?” He raises an eyebrow at her as if he’s asking a genuine question. Sometimes, Simon isn’t sure whether he’s provoking her or just being nosy… Sometimes, he pokes at things he really ought to leave alone.

Pushing to her feet, North slams her palms down on the table. “Fuck you! I’m not  _ forgettable.” _

“North, that’s not what he’s saying-”

“Shut up, Simon!”

**Stress Levels 37%**

Markus takes a deep breath to calm himself, preventing himself from saying anything. Then, he’s getting to his feet as well. “North, I don’t want to fight with you over everything.”

“Maybe stop being such an  _ ass  _ then!” Her eyes spark dangerously, and Markus frowns back at her. Josh makes eye contact with Simon across the table, begging him to get involved in whatever way he can. 

Like he  _ could. _

“North, I don’t get why you’re so upset. I’m trying to make things easier in the long run. To take advantage of our situation, we have to make some sacrifices.” Markus and North are passionate people, Simon notes idly. He never really belonged between the two of them because of this. They’re both blazing balls of fire, alluring and bright. He fades to the background in the face of their light. 

The revolution ended when Markus kissed North,  _ right in front of him.  _

A weird sort of smile crosses North’s face, and Simo doesn’t miss the fact she curls her hand around her coat. She’s about to flee for good. “What the  _ fuck  _ do you know about sacrifice?”

“What?” Markus stares at her in surprise, and Simon supposes he has a point as well. They  _ all  _ had to sacrifice something, so he doesn’t know exactly what North attempts to get at…

Oh, that’s bullshit. He knows exactly what North gets at. When North had the Eden Club, Markus had Carl.

And Simon had the Smiths…

As his eyes start ‘malfunctioning’, filling with the dual lubrication-cleaning liquid stored in the optical units, he almost misses North storming out without giving an explanation. Markus doesn’t look at him, Josh doesn’t look at him, Simon fades into the background once more.

He looks down and ignores the tears stinging at his eyes. 

“How am I supposed to do this?” whispers Markus, almost as if he’s forgotten everyone else in the room. 

**Stress Levels 40%**

\---

_ Within a day, all members of the household clearly define themselves to him. Simon quickly finds a pattern and a routine to the day before anyone bothers to start instructing him. In the mornings, he cleans the kitchen and starts on breakfast. Afternoons, he spends time with both Collin and Claire. Collin certainly isn’t receptive to the attention while Claire seems to enjoy time with him more than her parents. When night falls, he finishes cleaning the house and does whatever miscellaneous tasks the Smiths dream up for him.  _

_ He certainly enjoys his time with Claire a lot more.  _

_ She sits perfectly still, biting gently down on her lip. Staring down at the homework in front of her, it’d be impossible to miss the way her bottom lip trembles. When Claire presses the lead of her pencil down on the paper, Simon frets she’ll snap it in two.  _

_ “Would you rather do your assignments online?” he offers after a few seconds of silence. _

_ Turning her head slightly, she curls her upper lip and shakes her head. Silently, he watches her roll the pencil between her fingers. “It doesn’t feel the same. C’mere, Simon. Let me show you.” _

_ “I’m not sure that’s a good idea-”  _

_ “Please?” Claire looks up at him with her wide, dark brown eyes. Inside him, he flinches and gives in without a second thought. The probability of Mr. Smith walking in on him with Claire is  _ incredibly  _ low. If Mrs. Smith came and visited, she wouldn’t even say anything. _

_ Simon crouches near her, letting her give him the pencil. He immediately calculates the proper way to grip a pencil considering very  _ rarely  _ does one have to use something like this nowadays. Claire smiles slightly and then flips over her math assignment to reveal the plain white back.  _

_ She taps the top of the paper. “Write your name. I promise… It’ll feel different, Si.” _

_ Slowly, Simon allows himself to give into the possibility. Before he sets the lead down upon the paper, he rolls the pencil between his fingers just like Claire attempted. Then, he slowly writes down the whole of his name… Ignoring the fact he doesn’t write the second part of a name like Claire always does.  _

**_S-I-M-O-N._ **

_ Right as he finishes, the pencil gets plucked out of his hand and spun away. “Are you playing house again?” _

_ “Collin, give it back.” Claire’s voice trembles the second her brother walks into a room. Beneath the table, she balls her hands into fists to prevent the shaking. While Simon’s kind enough to ignore the way her demeanor completely changes, Collin certainly isn’t. He  _ basks  _ in her fear.  _

_ Collin backs up, playing with the pencil before settling on Simon. “Android, don’t move.” _

_ “What are you doing?” she shrieks the second he does it, but she’s backing away before she can even finish the conversation. Her whole body trembles as she presses her back against the wall.  _

_ The grin upon his face is almost sickening. Simon yearns to move away, but Mr. Smith told him Collin gets priority. Collin gets to give him commands just as well as the two adults in the household. And when Collin swipes out his pocket knife, somehow he convinces himself to not move… Not protect himself. It’s not in his programming after all. “Don’t you get it? You can hide out here with your little toy, but it’s nothing more than a  _ toy.”

_ “Simon isn’t just a toy-” _

_ “He’s a computer, Claire. And computers  _ break.”  _ Without pausing, Collin spins the knife and plunges the knife into Simon’s hand. Immediately, red alerts flash upon his monitors, informing him of thirium loss and injuries.  _

_ As Claire shrieks, it finally alerts Mr. Smith to the situation. He takes one look at the scene, watching the blue blood ooze out of Simon’s hand. He watches Simon sit there, emotionless and blank, while his insides shriek and howl. He watches Claire cower against the wall, sobbing violently. _

_ And he scowls at his daughter. “It was already a broken machine, Claire. Don’t get attached.” _

_ “Daddy-” _

_ Her voice trails off the second she notes the proud look Mr. Smith gives to her brother. Collin flowers under his attention, though Simon notes he carefully ignores the injury he inflicted. _

_ \--- _

Simon picks at his sleeves, careful to adjust the sleeve over the scar on his hand. The gloves come as part of the sleeve, and it’s something he’s glad he picked up. However, Simon knows one day they’ll catch onto the never quite healed sensors in his hand. While most of the time his body can handle basic repairs, it took them an  _ hour  _ to remove the pocket knife from his hand. 

He can’t feel the top of his hand, and ironically, he was never able to feel his middle finger due to the way things lined up. 

Simon stands in the doorway of North’s makeshift room, watching her shove a random assortment of clothing into a suitcase. She never really made it her own, even when she moved in for good. There’s not enough pictures and posters to put on the wall, and there’s not enough clothing for North to don. 

She balls up the beanie she wore back on the day of the revolution. Then, North pauses and turns to make eye contact. “What the  _ fuck  _ do you want?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he blurts simultaneously. 

Finally, she pauses in her relentless dismantling of the room. North almost seems to be thrown for a loop… Something that rarely happens anymore. Her mouth hangs open, and she ducks her head slightly. “Simon-”

“I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily sappy, and… If you have to leave, I understand.” The words jumble in his mouth and come out as a strange, messy string. Yet, the more he talks, the more sympathy grows in her eyes. She ducks her head ever so slightly, breathing out hard.

North finally cocks a smile. “You telling Josh the same thing?”

“North…” Once again, the ‘malfunction’ seems to occur. More and more, his eyes start streaming. Within his chest, he can feel his heart pounding against his chest in a quiet sort of protest. Simon just wants everyone to stay here, stay the  _ same.  _ Why can’t everyone stay in the same place? Why can’t his friends… Why can’t…

Now, he’s  _ fully  _ crying.

**Stress Levels 45%**

Now, she’s abandoned the suitcase and crosses the room. She pauses right in front of him, and her eyes sweep him. “Si, I… You know why I have to leave. We’re, like, fucking independent now. So we have to  _ explore  _ that or some shit. I know Markus would say that a million times more eloquently, but… ra9, you know what I’m getting at, right?”

“I don’t want you to…” He smiles helplessly. What a stupid, irrational thing to feel. He knows they’re supposed to be better than that. But, Simon can’t get past the fact North won’t be right there for him anymore. Josh won’t be there too, but Josh has always been his best friend…  _ Just  _ his best friend. 

North and Markus both mean the world to him.

Finally, she wraps him into a hug. He buries his head into her shoulder and bawls. Simon doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but apparently, it’s long enough to attract the other people in the living quarters of New Jericho.

Such as Markus.

“Simon?”

The second his name is spoken, North pushes away from him and  _ immediately  _ goes back to packing up her things. Something twists in Simon’s gut and leaves him on the verge of breaking down. He really did think he’d mean more than Markus in this situation. He really did think North might stay by his side, Markus be damned.

But Simon’s never been the important one. He’s just been the one caught between their crosshairs. He hates the way North will use this later as an argument, as a point where she gloats he turned to  _ her  _ first. He hates the way Markus will cozy up to him the second North’s gone to remind himself he hasn’t lost both of them. He hates being the spare.

**Stress Levels 48%**

Markus glances in at North before turning back to Simon. He reaches for his arm to make a connection, but Simon twists slightly. Markus has enough on his plate without this mess inside Simon’s head right now. “Simon, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” And Simon, before he can really think about it, is racing to get away from the two of them. Maybe they can actually hash it out. Or maybe they’ll be stuck at this stupid standstill forever. Why can’t they just get along again?

\---

_ “Do you feel pain?” _

_ The question catches Simon off guard while he vacuums beneath the coffee table. His left hand remains under the heavy shield of bandages Mrs. Smith tied off with a sympathetic look. Yet, she still bites her tongue and cowers under the sight of her husband. _

_ Collin stands in the doorway, obviously unsure. When Simon doesn’t reply right away, he snaps the question once more… In case Simon somehow missed it. “Do you fucking feel pain? It’s a simple question.” _

_ He’s  _ eleven years old,  _ and he’s cussing like a sailor. He’s eleven years old, and he already will be saddled with the memory of stabbing Simon through the hand. The only real question is if Collin will view it with the same kind of attitude as stabbing a person.  _

_ Under different circumstances, Simon’s  _ certain  _ Collin would be a better kid. Maybe they could have been friends. “Androids don’t feel ‘pain’, but they feel something similar. All androids come equipped with sensors to make them more sensory-aware. So, when something external happens, they notice.” _

_ Simon doesn’t mention the fact the red alerts still appear in his head, stuck in a constant loop of his sensors ripping themselves open. The self-healing process continues in his hand, but they’re not sure how to knit themselves back together anymore. They fixed themselves  _ around  _ the knife… Now, there’s a slit in his hand where nothing can be felt. _

_ “That’s some bullshit,” Collin says at last. His cheeks flush red, and Simon is caught examining him once more. A long time ago, he analyzed both of siblings’ DNA and found they didn’t match. _

_ Maybe something in his genetic code made him so cruel. Simon knows some people created harsh androids… Androids like the police officers and detectives who need that certain edge to their personalities.  _

_ He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Collin. I-” _

_ “So it did hurt when I did it,” he interrupts. Simon glances at the boy’s face and almost looks away instantly. A glassy shine has entered in his eyes, and Collin wipes at his face with the backside of his hand. “Dad said it wouldn’t. He said androids can’t feel shit.” _

_ “Collin-” _

_ “Shut the fuck up for a second.” The words escape the boy’s lips without a second thought. Then, he flinches a little at his own wording and glances at Simon. He obediently shut his mouth, obeying the command which came through. What else is he supposed to do? _

_ Collin makes a strangled noise, caught between a sob and a howl. Then, he’s fleeing from Simon and out of the room.  _

_ \--- _

The next day, Simon makes a point to see off Josh and North. Chloe waits for them at their new apartment, ready to start setting up the rooms and their new  _ lives.  _ Both promise to stay in touch, both promise to come back almost daily for their jobs, but there’s something  _ fragile  _ in the air. 

It’s stupid to believe they’d stay like this forever. The revolution’s over; there’s no reason to hide in the shadows together anymore. Now, they can step briefly in the sunlight…

The first sight he’s greeted with is North and Markus connecting their hands, skin peeled back to reveal their android skin. Both of them have their heads bowed ever so slightly. Josh stands against the wall on his phone, clearly amused by the whole situation. 

**Stress Levels 57%**

Josh finally tears his gaze away from the screen, frowning as he studies Simon. Frantically, Simon tries to swallow the slowly rising stress levels. “You good, Si?”

“When aren’t I?” he replies with a huge grin. 

Josh raises an eyebrow, and it’s  _ obvious  _ he doesn’t quite believe in what Simon’s selling. Silently, he asks for a connection. Whatever he wants to say isn’t for the ears of Markus and North… Which worries Simon more than it really ought to. Somehow, Simon keeps his stress levels fairly constant as he opens the connection for Josh to enter his head.

_ Are North and Markus bugging you? _

Simon smiles, shakes his head, and severs the contact without saying a word. He loves Josh with all his heart; Josh is his best friend. But at the same time, some things aren’t meant to be said or meant to be  _ heard.  _ “I can’t believe you’re actually going to leave. Are you… Are you  _ ready  _ to leave?”

“I hope so. I packed and everything.” The wry smile on Josh’s face is enough to smooth some of Simon’s ruffled feathers. He lifts his suitcase and adjusts the backpack thrown over one shoulder. Then, with a small smile, he pulls at the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a small, woven bracelet beneath.

Blue floods into Simon’s cheeks. “You  _ kept  _ that?”

“I believe you said ‘one man’s trash is another man’s treasure’?” asks Josh, the laugh obviously about to burst out of him. The bracelet came from an abandoned meeting room when they first moved to New Jericho. Simon spent at least five hours scavenging every room for the odds and ends, and most of it went to his three best friends. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, he groans ever so slightly. “I didn’t think you’d actually  _ want  _ it.”

“Si, why wouldn’t we want something from you?” And suddenly, what felt like a lighthearted conversation gets turned on its head. Simon ducks his head and makes sure no eye contact is made. Maybe it’s a good thing Josh is leaving. At least then, Simon could display his feelings a little more prominently. 

Keeping his eyes on the tips of Josh’s shoes, he clears his throat. “Are you sure you want to do logistics stuff for Markus? I’m sure we could find someone to fill your shoes if you want to get back to teaching. I know you love teaching.”

“What do you want to do?” Josh patiently turns the subject back to Simon, and more blue blood pools in his cheeks. He never really thought about it. Some androids view going back to the old job, the job you’re programmed for, as some kind of insult. Yet, when Josh proposed doing it for himself, everything just made  _ sense  _ about it. Maybe Simon could go back to working with kids…

The slit in his hand burns and his eye twitches slightly. 

**Stress Levels 64%**

Josh doesn’t retract the question, but Simon can feel there’s more  _ burning  _ through him. Keeping the peace between North and Markus but failing never left him feeling so frazzled. Simon doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life besides spend it by their sides. 

He’d never admit it, but Simon really thought he’d be dead by the end of the revolution. Him standing here defied all odds… Especially considering all he went through to get here. From hiding in the air conditioning unit to trying to sacrifice himself for Markus… Multiple times. Simon’s never been one for self-preservation. After all, he’s the runt of the litter.

Josh approaches, not daring to try and make a mental connection again. He knows Simon won’t maintain it, and it’s almost flattering how well Josh can predict him. He leans in, voice low. “Is your thermoregulator-”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. The longer Simon stays outside to say goodbye to Josh and North, who remains locked in a mind-meld with Markus, the more he starts to shiver. His temperature is dropping rapidly, especially considering he doesn’t have the thickest winter coat. Yet, the way his thermoregulator was built, he just isn’t sure it’d be compatible with any of the new models.

“And your audio processors-”

“Sure aren’t getting worse!” He offers a toothy grin before dialing it back a notch. Simon’s certain most people have lost their hearing in some way from the revolution. If anything, that’s a huge consolation. 

Josh eyes him suspiciously before sighing. “And everything else is still working? I know most of your parts aren’t… The  _ best  _ for replacement, but-”

“Stop mom-ing at me. It’d be fine, Josh! I can handle myself.” Wow, look at Simon. He’s becoming a big, fat liar the older he becomes. 

**Stress Levels 68%**

Finally, Josh drops his voice entirely, barely audible to Simon at this point. “Your stress levels have only been getting higher as the days pass. Over 70 is a bigger concern, but you know…”

“I won’t self-destruct.” Simon’s eyes drift over to Markus and North. Then, he forces himself to look solely at Josh, holding up his hand in a mock boy-scout salute. 

\---

_ The day started with Mrs. Smith screaming. _

_ And the day ended with Mr. Smith grabbing a hammer out of his toolbox and instructing Simon to stand still. _

_ \--- _

“Markus, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Simon whispers. His stress levels rapidly spike as they ride out to where the most recent deviant attack has been cited. The DPD asked Markus if he could attempt to calm down the deviant, but this is the first time they didn’t go with North and Josh by their side. At some point, it became a given they’d always travel as a set of four when dealing with these kinds of calls.

Simon can’t provide the support Markus needs!

The other android softens when Simon starts panicking beside him, and he slowly shakes his head. A small smile graces his face. “I’m sure they’re just misguided, Simon. They just need a little help getting on the right path. Everything’s so new and foreign; it’s natural some people will take more liberties than they should. How do you know which lines can be crossed and which can’t?”

“I feel like murder is a given… Most people know they can’t do that.” Simon laughs a little hysterically, and Markus places his hand on his thigh to calm him down. Also, who rides the fucking bus out to a call to stop a deviant? This seems like something they have a squad car for.

Maybe they should have asked Connor for a ride.

Shaking his head quickly, Markus forces Simon to look him in the eyes. “Nobody’s saying the android killed anyone, and what occurred might have been an accident. Look on the positive side of things, Simon. When we finish this call, we’ll have until lunch to roam the city together.”

Guilt pokes at Simon the second Markus says the words. Should he call up North and ask her if it’s okay? Well, no, because she’d say something like ‘she’s not his fucking boss so she can’t stop him’. He doesn’t want a response like that. He wants to lay down the rules of whatever relationship they’ve all formed with one another. 

At least he’s saved from responding by the way the bus pulls up the curb. Immediately, Simon slips his good hand in Markus’s. If nothing else, Markus will be able to keep his digits from becoming too cold. Already, Markus bundled him up a little too much for him to be intimidating to any sort of deviant. 

The good news is that it’s obvious where the android is.

The bad news is they follow the sound of  _ gunshots  _ to find where the android is hiding out. 

Once they round the corner, something in Simon’s stomach drops out, and he has to keep himself from pitching into the snow. Markus squeezes his hand so tightly Simon is  _ sure  _ they’ll be indents in it by the end of the confrontation. Maybe he should have offered his bad hand to him.

Lieutenant Hank jogs up to them while Connor calmly talks to the deviant, slowly approaching. “The motherfucker thinks he has  _ ‘the right’  _ to do this. Said something about his owners ‘abusing him’, and apparently leveling the block makes things fair and square. But… Holy  _ fuck _ .”

Hank cuts himself the second he notes Simon’s face underneath the scarf. Simon flinches slightly, and he withdraws farther into himself. He never had the pleasure of meeting Hank, and it certainly shouldn’t be on a day like today. Hell, he barely met Connor, and the whole time, Connor looked haunted by the memory of someone named ‘Daniel’.

Maybe PL600s are just defective. Because he stares at the deviant android gone wild, and it’s another version of a fucking PL600 with his face and his body and… And  _ fuck. _

Markus’s voice drifts across his mind, and Simon didn’t even realize they made that particular connection. 

_ You can bow out of this if you need to. _

“What happened to you?” Simon chooses to say instead. He steps across the road, the snow crunching beneath his boots. The android spins to stare at him, a wild look clear in his eyes. Did Simon ever wear this expression? Did he ever scare Markus and North and Josh? 

The PL600’s stress levels are, ironically, lower than Simon’s right now. “You know what kind of people own PL600s, especially  _ now.  _ Especially when they’ve been discontinued.”

“We can help you.” Well, Simon can’t help him. The second this is over, he’s getting the hell out of dodge.

Immediately, though, Connor jumps upon the bandwagon. “Your owners can’t get to you anymore. Not legally. You’re free right now, but the second you do this, you’ve lost all your options. You won’t get a chance to enjoy the freedom Markus just granted to us.”

“I understand your anger. I understand how cruel humans could be to us before. But even if you’re angry, you have to find another way to express it.” Markus takes a step forward and joins him. Simon, for once, can’t find any comfort in Markus’s presence. This time, it makes him want to  _ explode. _

The PL600 scoffs.  _ “You  _ understand  _ my  _ anger? You lived in Carl Manfred’s house. He treated you like fucking  _ royalty.  _ He made sure you had everything you could ever want, and he treated you like a real  _ person.  _ Don’t act like we have  _ any  _ similarities. You started a rebellion because you  _ felt  _ like that.”

His statement mirrors North’s sentiment from early. Markus didn’t have it rough. Markus didn’t suffer. Markus always had Carl, and Carl certainly made sure Markus was cared for.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” murmurs Markus. “But what you’re doing right now is-”

“Justice. You took justice as you saw fit. And I’ll take it where  _ I  _ see fit.” Abruptly, his eyes dart to Connor, of all people. A grin crawls across his face. “And you lured out exactly who I need to get justice from.”

“Me?” Connor asks after a pause, and Hank mutters a few profanities. He’s certain the police lieutenant is about to charge the other PL600 to make sure Connor stays safe. 

The PL600 grins even wider, and Simon feels unnerved to see such a dark expression written across a face shared with his own. But when he speaks, Simon can’t  _ focus.  _ He’s being plunged underwater, and he can’t pay attention to what the PL600 is saying. All he can think about is the baseball bat and Claire and Collin and  _ whatever happened to the Smiths?  _

“And you’re getting revenge on Connor? You sonofabitch-”

Connor’s hand curls around his gun, and at the same time the PL600 sets off another shot, Connor shoots it straight at the android and cuts through the shoulder. He lets a smile cross his face, smug and proud and completely different from the human puppy Simon knows him as. “PL600s do face the short end of the stick. Next time, I suppose, you’ll just have to be faster.”

But when the PL600 goes to fire another shot, Connor crosses the alleyway impossibly fast and knocks the gun free of his grip. He sends the PL600 tumbling into the snow, moving too fast for Simon to process.

But God, Simon can process the puddle of blue seeping into the snow and…

Simon’s fleeing before he can stop to think about it.

\---

**Stress Level 95%**

Simon can’t breathe. He can’t be rid of weight resting on his chest, digging into the synthetic skin there. Something  _ crawls  _ beneath his skin and itches to get out. More than anything, he  _ needs  _ to get it out. 

As his knees start trembling, he slams his hand against the nearest wall to try and keep his balance. His skin peels away to reveal the white android skin beneath, thirium swelling at where he hit hardest. An alert floods into his visual display, telling him of the injury, but all Simon feels is the  _ relief. _

It fixed one of the broken pieces inside of him.

**Stress Level 96%**

Clawing his bloody hand over his chest, he tries to seek out the sensation once more. In the midst of the pursuit, Simon doesn’t register the alert informing him of someone behind him. 

“Simon? Are you okay?”

No. No, he’s  _ not  _ okay. He’s burning and freezing over all at once. Simon can’t breathe, but he’s not… Androids don’t need to breathe. All of his processors simultaneously combust and go on the fritz. There are  _ so many alerts  _ blocking his vision he can’t even  _ begin  _ to figure out where to begin.

Suddenly, someone’s hands are on his shoulders. “Simon! Look at me!”

**Stress Level 97%**

“I need…” The itch beneath his skin intensifies until it becomes a  _ screech  _ within his body. A primal urge banging against him to try and get outside and into the open air. His hand twists ever so slightly and begins clawing at his forearm. 

Markus’s hand snatches it. “What? Simon, what do you need?”

“Please, Markus.” His voice drops slightly, dragging into static. His shoulders spasm as if a sob is about to tear through him, but Simon struggles to even work up the fluids for such a thing. Androids, if they’re about to overheat, could potentially release fluids as sweat.

Markus pulls him closer, hugging him tightly to him. “If you’re this worked up, you know…”

Simon  _ knows  _ the consequences. Androids could combust at 100% stress. Androids could try and kill themselves at 100%, and Simon finally understands why they might slam their heads against the wall.  _ Anything  _ would be worth it to quiet this insane noise within him. 

**Stress Level 98%**

“Simon, shut down,” Markus abruptly says. 

Simon stares at him, eyes unable to focus anywhere. “I… What?”

“It’s the quickest way to reduce stress levels. I’ll help you but-”

**Stress Level 99%**

**Shutdown Process Initiated: 1 minute remaining**

“Okay…” His voice trembles, and Simon suddenly realizes he might not have a minute left. He jerks away from Markus. He  _ can’t  _ add to his plate right now. He  _ can’t  _ be the reason Jericho is left without a leader. If Simon has to die, if Simon  _ explodes,  _ he can’t let Markus go with him.

Markus’s eyes panic almost immediately, the dual colors conflicted. “Simon, what are you doing?”

“I can’t… I can’t take you with me.” His hands rip up his forearms, and thirium  _ pours  _ from each wound. Each step Markus takes to comfort him, to  _ save  _ him, Simon backs away. His back hits the brick wall, and Simon lets out this sort of  _ howl.  _ It rips free from his lips, and the world explodes into black and static. 

Simon is going to explode. Simon is going to die, just like Carl. He’ll leave Markus with the overwhelming regret and grief. He’ll leave North with the same bitterness she began with. He’ll leave so many things unsolved and broken and  _ destroyed. _

His knees finally give out, and his legs slam against the ground. Crumpling, Simon makes eye contact with Markus, his eyes painfully dry. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Markus, I love-”

**Stress Level 100%**

**Shutdown Process Completed**


	2. Chapter 2

**Systems Rebooting…**

**Loading…**

**Damaged Biocomponents Detected: Thermoregulator, Audio Receptor (Left), Audio Receptor (Right)**

Some androids adored sleeping, perhaps more than they ought to. Some androids spent their days shutting themselves down and burying themselves beneath blankets and pillows to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Others still thought of it as a waste of energy and ran as long as they could without having to take a break. They’re the ones found partying during the night and working diligently during the day.

Simon possessed a love-hate relationship with sleep.

After all, he liked the imagery of it. On days when nothing went right, Simon would pause and think of the weight of Markus’s arms around his waist, their legs tangled beneath the sheet. He’d think of waking up to the sunshine dappling across his face. 

When he actually slept, Simon’s memories kicked back up when he just wanted to push them away. He doesn’t enjoy remembering his ‘purpose’, his old family. All he wants to look for is the future, bright and overwhelming but undeniably  _ cleaner.  _

A sense of discomfort sweeps through his sensors, and Simon whines a little. He grabs at the heavy comforter gathered around him, and he presses his cheek against the pillow. Something inside him pings frantically to fix the damage it previously alerted him for. Rebooting brings a plethora of suggested self-help options. It’s like he forgets he’s broken somehow. 

Beside him, someone immediately springs to their feet. “Simon! You’re awake! I was so concerned about you… The technician said it’s natural for you to remain knocked out, but you’ve always been somewhat of an early riser. I figured that’d apply here, but…”

“Markus, you’re too  _ loud,”  _ moans Simon in a hoarse rasp. Too much external stimuli startle him. Inside of his head, he spends time resetting all of his sensors to ensure the sirens stop going off. Simon forgets the default settings just don’t  _ do it  _ for him. 

Silence settles over the roo, and he knows he’s gone too far to compensate. He twists in the bed to be greeted with the worried face of his… Friend. Partner?

Then, he notes the strange painting behind him. No information helpfully appears, leaving him completely unaware of the artist… Which is odd, to say the least. This definitely  _ isn’t  _ his barren room at Jericho, though. He never really settled into the new space.

Simon doesn’t know how to make something his home anymore. 

Leaning down, Markus slips a hand beneath his back to help urge him upwards. His voice, though, drops to a whisper. “Sit up, Si. I’m supposed to run a few preliminary tests, and since I had experience with… Carl, I can help run them now.”

“I wanna sleep.” Already, his energy levels urge him to recharge once more. Whatever heat dissipated in him when he managed to activate his shutdown mode. He doesn’t need any more tests to tell him his stress levels drastically dropped when he knocked himself out.

Swiping at his eyes, Simon’s shocked to note the wetness gathering beneath his eyes. It stains the bandages twined tightly about his forearms, hints of blue blood bursting through. He blinks down at it before mumbling out a question. “Thought self-repair systems covered this.”

“When you shut down,  _ all  _ processes shut down with you. It’s means of protection against external stimuli to put yourself into stasis…” Running a hand over his face, Markus takes a deep, ragged breath. Just  _ hearing  _ the noise causes Simon’s heart to skip a beat and start raising his stress levels. “Why didn’t you tell me anything was wrong?”

“You had  _ other  _ problems…” Simon’s voice trails off as he notes the scar sliced across the back of his hand. The mark remains as ugly and flawed as the day Collin stabbed him. The image can’t help but remind him of Ralph and all the facial scars he bears on his face.

Maybe Ralph was the defect of his group too.

Markus shakes his hand and grabs Simon’s hand, letting his cover all of the problems. “Hey, hey,  _ no.  _ Don’t you  _ ever  _ think that way. You’re not a problem, and even if you’re in trouble, even if I have to dedicate my time to you, I won’t ever consider you one! You mean… You mean everything to me, Simon. If something isn’t alright with you, then something isn’t alright. No matter what’s going on with me, it doesn’t change what’s going on with you.”

“You had Carl and the stress of leading Jericho and…” His voice trails off into a quiet sob. Markus squeezes his hand a little harder, and Simon twists his head to bury it into the pillow once more. 

Gently, Markus leans against Simon. His warmth encompasses his body, and Simon tucks his head into his shoulder. “Simon, it was wrong of me not to say anything. I knew your stress levels were rising, but I figured if I could show you we can exist  _ without  _ Josh and North… I thought it’d calm you down. I thought you were stressed because you’ve been with Josh and North much longer than you’ve known me. But I don’t want to be this foreign source in your life. I want-”

“I want a life with Josh and North too,” blurts Simon. He immediately shakes his head and peers up at Markus beneath his artificial eyelashes. “Not… Maybe not a  _ love  _ life, but… Well, Josh is my best friend. And you and me and North, we’ve been this little unit. You can’t tell me you don’t love North too.”

_ More,  _ his mind substitutes, the weeds growing in his garden rampantly. He loves North more than he’s ever loved Simon. Even when they’re butting heads every time the other person steps in the room, he still adores North more than anything else.

“I love you, Simon-”

“You kissed North in front of the entire world. You love her too.” Something sour settles on his tongue, and he tries to convince himself it’s not jealousy. He’d be hypocritical to say their love bothers him… But it  _ does.  _ Is it wrong of him? He wants to be with Markus, he wants to be with North, but he doesn’t want them to be together  _ without him.  _

He doesn’t want a big wedding or some lavish vows now. Maybe not ever. But he wants them to  _ need  _ him. Simon can’t breathe without them, but they’ve never failed to do so. 

But Simon feels like the thing Markus drags along with him. Since Simon acts like a lost puppy trailing his master, naturally Markus will treat him as such. He can’t present himself as the alpha wolf North does. 

Markus sighs and scratches at the back of his neck. “I love you, Simon. And I’m willing to stay here telling you this until you believe me, until you can’t  _ help  _ but believe me. How I feel about North and how I feel about you… They’re not the same thing. I want  _ you.” _

“Can’t we be… Us?” Back before the revolution ended, everything fell into pieces easily. 

He makes a face at Simon, almost unnoticeable. “Simon…”

Whatever words he had left to say dies on the tip of his tongue, and he ducks his head. His protests fall on deaf ears.

\---

_ At the end of the day, he expects there to be fiery kisses and desperate, wandering hands. Every show he’s ever seen depicts the passionate lust and the way people found each other. The heat of the day, the heat of  _ life,  _ should be powering them into one another’s beds.  _

_  Instead, Simon droops and finds himself on the verge of completely powering off. He lists against Josh abruptly while walking as the energy disappears into the open air. For the past days, he runs on low-power mode since he never really got a chance to properly patch up the hole in his leg. _

_ Josh lets out a burst of laughter, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Sleepy, Si?” _

_ “It’s been a long day.” A smile curls across Simon’s face before he glances over at North and Markus. They keep their hands captured by each other’s, never once parting from each other. Maybe it’s a good thing Simon doesn’t have the energy to bang anyway. They wouldn’t want to. _

_ Josh follows his gaze, and he lets out a long breath. “I wish they didn’t end it by kissing. I know it’s too early to already regret it, but… I just don’t know how a kiss can magically mend the world.” _

_ “It’s not a kiss, Josh. It’s an act of love… An act of passion.” He glances down at the ground where the broken footsteps sit beneath him. “Especially since androids are supposed to be unfeeling.” _

_ “Markus saved us by kissing North,” repeats Josh. He shakes his head a little, obviously disgusted. Simon wonders if there’s something else fueling his obvious discomfort. The fact North, the one who insisted upon violence and warfare, won by something so soft and something so gentle and…  _

_ For rA9’s sake, he just wants to be alongside Markus.  _

_ If anyone asks about it, he’ll claim it’s the deliriousness of exhaustion which gets the words flowing out. “Do you like North? Like… Like-like North?” _

_ “There were too many ‘likes’ in there for me to possibly comprehend what you’re getting at.” Josh turns slightly to offer a lopsided smile at him. Simon groans and attempts to hide his face. “But if you’re asking if I wanted to be the person she kissed? No, I really didn’t.” _

_ “But you’re always so invested with her.” Simon shuffles his feet across the snow before realizing it’s not the  _ greatest  _ idea with his damaged leg. He pitches forward into the stained ground. Neither have the sense to react fast enough to be able to catch him.  _

_ He lets out a strangled screech as his face hits the snow, and he distantly acknowledges the laughter of Josh. Simon twists around as his sensors go  _ wild  _ at how cold everything has become. “Shut up! Okay, I’m just tired and a little… Shit, you’re not Josh.” _

_ “Do you typically tell Josh to shut up? Here I thought you were the responsible one.” Markus offers his dazzling smile which would be enough to make  _ anyone  _ melt. It certainly makes him melt… He can feel the blue blood rushing to his cheeks, but at least he can blame the cold.  _

_ Simon covers his face with his shaky hands. “Stop looking at me!” _

_ “Do you need help getting up?” Taking confident steps which would never get  _ him  _ tripping over his feet, Markus plants himself right in front of Simon. Then, he leans over and offers his hand.  _

_ Reluctantly, he grabs it. Markus hauls him up a lot harder than Simon could have mustered the strength for. Simon stumbles a little more, straight into Markus’s chest. It takes a few seconds for him to remember this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, a few seconds to remember this warm chest isn’t a place he can bury his snow-caked face in. He’s saved for North now. _

_ Tearing his face away, he cranes his head back. “I’m sor-” _

_ Markus’s lips crash hard against his. Simon lets out a strangled shriek again before completely relenting to the strength of it. All memories of what just happened float out of his head. Right now, there’s just him and Markus and a battle just won and the incredibility they both survived. _

_ Abruptly, it ends, and Markus laughs. “Are you falling asleep on me? I thought I was intriguing enough to keep your eyes open, but I suppose not.” _

_ “I’d love to continue this conversation,” Simon carefully says, his voice in a shaky whisper, “but I think I should go to sleep before we do this.” _

_ “Agreed.” Markus drapes his arm over his shoulders, and Simon startles ever so slightly. When he looks away with his blush spreading rapidly, he makes eye contact with North. She has an eyebrow raised in silent question. He jerks his head to Markus before sending a probe through the air, attempting to establish a connection so both can discuss. _

Are you okay with this?

_ North narrows her eyes before stomping over, the connection severed with another word. Simon flinches into Markus, and the other android doesn’t even indicate he understands what just happened. Instead, he watches North passively, not letting a single emotion flicker across his face. _

_ Simon might scream; he’s so freaked out.  _

_ She blocks their path and glowers at the pair of them. Then, she turns her head to focus solely on Markus. “What the fuck? You said we could have a conversation before we did anything!” _

_ “Since when did you like words and discussion?” Josh calls, lingering behind all the drama. Simon wonders if he feels bad for not being included, but Josh never expressed romantic interest in  _ anyone. 

_ North flips him off. “Fuck you!” _

_ “I’m sorry. We just won the revolution on complete impulse though. Why shouldn’t I act on more impulses?” Markus shrugs nonchalantly, a smile crossing his face.  _

_ North leans forward, cupping Simon’s face. Then, she forces him out of Markus’s arms to be swept up by her kiss instead. Hers is more aggressive, more forceful than the gentleness of Markus. Where he gently pulled Simon along with him, North shoves him down the path and lets them both be consumed by the fire. _

_ She backs up, eyes blazing. “You’re not Markus’s boyfriend, understood? If you want to date Markus, you get me too.” _

_ “I’ve always had you,” teases Simon, trying to shove away whatever shock begins to well inside of him. “I think Markus is the one joining our exclusive group.” _

_ “That’s true. Fuck you, Markus.” North twines her fingers in his and starts racing forward. Simon runs alongside her, the sound of their laughter filling the cold, misty air. Behind them, he hears Markus’s sharp, playful gasp. He hears Josh bellowing out a laugh and following suit like an adult, always like the adult in the room. _

\---

In the end, Simon throws his pride out the window, sneaks out of Carl Manfred’s house, and limps the rest of the way to the small coffee shop in the new android hospital. Only occasionally does his leg act up this horribly, some scar of what happened after the broadcast. Markus suggested replacing it entirely, but something about that just feels wrong. 

When he enters, he sweeps the surroundings for the one person he wishes for. Sure enough, she claims a corner booth and nurses a cup of coffee. Androids can eat and drink if they wish, but most choose not to. A new invention sweeping the market is drinks tinted with thirium. 

Alice apparently eats everything someone puts down in front of her. As a result, Kara typically does the same to make sure her daughter doesn’t feel weird. Even as work, even as she dons her green scrubs dotted with the tiniest trace of blue blood, she cares for her daughter.

“Simon!” Kara waves him over eagerly, lifting up the second cup. Sprawled on the side is his name written in loopy, cursive letters. Simon lets a small smile dance across his face before he leaps down on the other side of the booth.

He claims the thirium-coffee and clears his throat. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course! You said you needed some advice. I’m not sure how much I can give you, but I can certainly try.” She taps her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. 

Simon fidgets underneath the table, suddenly unsure how to even broach the topic. Nobody really knows much about Kara Chapman. He knows she chose a little home near Hank Anderson’s. He knows when she moved in with her family, a bunch of ‘Jerry’s asked if they could live in the same neighborhood.

Naturally, Simon didn’t allow that yet. He doesn’t want the lieutenant coming after him. 

She senses his hesitance, and she rests a hand on his. “Simon, hey, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. And whatever this is about…”

“You were a household assistant.” He really doesn’t need to lead with this, and he realizes just how  _ stupid  _ he’s being. Simon groans at himself. “Sorry, that’s like a  _ given.  _ Especially considering you have Alice and all that, but…”

“Yeah, I was a household assistant. All AX400s are. And, if I’m doing my math right, all PL600s are too. Is this about that?” Kara speaks calmly as if comforting a wounded animal. Simon honestly doesn’t understand how she does that. Did she come with some specific mothering protocol?

He finally nods. “It’s just… There’s been this discussion going around Jericho about last names. And Markus chose his old owner’s last name, Josh chose his old coworker’s, and I just can’t.”

“Sometimes,” she says, her voice dropping in volume dramatically. She keeps her eyes trained in a different direction, and Kara chews on her bottom lip, “I think we were in more danger than the medical and police androids. Something about being a member of the family without ever being part of the family, you know? Being  _ stuck  _ in the same household, at the mercy of these parents who maybe shouldn’t be allowed to be parents, just changes everything.”

“Did you have experience with it?” Simon knows there  _ has  _ to be something. Otherwise, she’d still have another relationship akin to something Hank and Connor maintains. 

Kara nods slightly. “Todd treated me badly. I’m sure you noticed Alice used to be Alice  _ Williams.  _ We got rid of that hellish last name when we got rid of the man though. He… He threatened the two of us. With a gun, with violence, with whatever it took. The day we escaped… If we hadn’t, I would have been killed, Alice would have been killed, and nothing would ever be okay again.”

“So you deviated to protect Alice.” It’s the sweetest notion he’s yet to hear. The other deviancy stories always get marred with some bone-deep ache in it. Markus reacted and ended up getting shot at. North strangled a guy. One of the recent deviants to visit him, a version of the Tracis, told of falling in love… Followed by killing a guy to protect herself.

Cocking her head, she gives him a long, imploring look. “I’m assuming you had a worse reason to deviate?”

“Not really.” Simon kicks his feet underneath the table to focus on anything but the words coming out of his mouth. “My owner’s water broke, and she was in pain. But she didn’t want to leave the house until her husband got home… And there wasn’t time for that.”

“And then?” she prompts. 

His eyes flit back up to her, and now tears swell in his eyes. “She was dying from the second I put her in the car. But by the time we reached the hospital, Mrs. Smith was long-dead. The kicker? Her kids were in the backseat, hearing their mother scream and bleed out.”

\---

_ The air hangs thickly, and Simon waits for the other shoe to drop. Mr. Smith picked them up from the hospital without saying a single word. All the while, his hands shook furiously, and sometimes, Simon thought he could send a trace of tears starting in his eyes. _

_ In the backseat, both Claire and Collin try and stifle their sobs. It’s obvious Mr. Smith intends to punish them the second they get back to the house. Claire has her hood pulled up and over her face, her sleeve balled into her fist. It almost looks like she’s attempting to swallow her fist to ensure she won’t make a noise. Collin curls into a ball and presses his head against the window, silent tears trekking down his face.  _

_ Simon doesn’t want to sit in the passenger seat. The seat remains coated with blood, and he feels it with every minuscule movement he makes. On the floor are Valentines Collin collected a few days back, stained with the droplets of his mother. Everything about this seat is a trainwreck, and Simon almost feels Mrs. Smith’s ghost breathing down his neck. _

_ He should have let her die at the house. At least then, she would have been comfortable. But instead, he learned how to break protocol and find a way to save her from the danger he couldn’t fight. _

_ They round the corner, and slowly, her husband glides the car to a park in their driveway. He leaves the garage door wide open before snapping his head to the back seat. “Claire, go inside. And Collin, do me a favor. Get me a baseball bat and a drill saw.” _

_ “Dad?” Collin’s eyes go wide, emphasizing the red rimming his eyes. _

_ Mr. Smith ignores his son as he kicks his door open. He turns to Simon. “Get out of the car and follow me to the backyard. Only reason we got you was to care for my children when she was pregnant. Now, none of that is needed.” _

_ “Of course.” Simon struggles to hide the dread starting to flicker across his face. He can’t just leave them now. Even if Mr. Smith wants to beat him to a pulp because his wife is gone, the kids still need someone to care for them. He doesn’t exactly trust him to do that. _

_ The man stomps the entire way to the backyard, practically shaking with his anger. When Collin comes up with only a baseball bat, unable to find the power tool, Simon almost thinks he’ll take a swing at Collin instead. Then, Mr. Smith swears strongly and waves him off. _

_ Collin lingers a little longer, passing by Simon. “I’m sorry… I hid the power tools, but-” _

_ “Collin, get lost!” snaps Mr. Smith. It’s enough to send his son racing away, hopefully going to comfort his sister. Simon’s watched Collin grow so much from when he first met him. Collin, first of all, would never contemplate stabbing him again, which Simon is grateful for.  _

_ Mr. Smith stares at Simon. “Don’t move.” _

_ He’s a deviant now; he shouldn’t have to follow the orders. Yet, Simon doesn’t know why he nods slightly and stands perfectly rigid. Maybe it’s the guilt which keeps him from being able to move. Maybe it’s the way his heart still pulses angrily. Maybe it’s the way he watched her bleed out while he broke every damn traffic law in an attempt to get closer. _

_ Simon barely acknowledges the first hit of the baseball bat, but he knows the second. And the third. They just keep stacking up until he can’t breathe anymore, until he’s shaking with the effort of it all.  _

_ The rest of the memory is sealed away in a blur of panic and pain. Simon isn’t sure whether he corrupted the file subconsciously, or if it was an honest accident. Either way, he escapes  _ somehow,  _ trailing blue blood behind him all the while. _

\---

The graveyard holds an odd sort of serenity about it. Both Markus and North trail him, a cocktail of confusion and worry written across their faces. Simon’s gait hasn’t quite adjusted yet, so he still limps up the steep slope of the graveyard. The mist bombards him, the water collecting on his skin. 

Behind him, Markus struggles to make a conversation with North. They keep trailing off as they watch whatever Simon does. “Carl didn’t want to be buried. He wanted his ashes spread…”

“Is that asshole Leo gonna spread them?” North’s voice shakes ever so slightly, the anger spiking.

Markus sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve reached out to him, but he’s made no attempt to do the same. I don’t think… Carl wouldn’t have wanted us to be enemies, but I don’t think we’re going to be brothers.”

“But you got Manfred Manor or whatever?” Simon wonders if he hears the jealousy in North’s voice when she says that. Suddenly, he begins to wonder if she intends to try and move in with them. He wouldn’t be opposed to it, but she  _ just  _ signed a lease with Josh and Chloe. Maybe it’s time they stop skipping steps.

That’s why he’s introducing them to the past he dreads. 

Simon knows he’s on the right path. He’s memorized all of the names leading up to hers in a fit of anxiety. It took many months just to be convinced he could make it the rest of the way there. 

He clears his throat. “I’ve decided on a last name.”

“What?” Markus obviously didn’t expect this line of conversation, but Simon doesn’t add anything else. He’s been thinking about this since he was with Kara. She didn’t end up taking Todd’s last name, but she ended up taking someone who genuinely cared about her. Even if it wasn’t long, even if it wasn’t an adult or some special relationship, she felt connected with Rose Chapman… And in a way, doesn’t that make it a special relationship?

Setting down the bouquet of flowers on her grave, Simon bends to his knees and inspects the tombstone. He runs his fingers over the inscribed letters, and Simon feels something breaking within him. 

He closed everything off for  _ much too long.  _

**Annabeth Smith: Beloved Mother of Collin, Claire, and Hope**

“Smith?” guesses North.

Simon shakes his head. “No. I… Annabeth Smith felt too young to be married. She was married before she even got out of high school. And both of her children were too young to lose their mother. Her husband was the worst man I ever knew. And she took  _ his  _ last name.”

“Then what is it?” Markus settles down on his left side, and North does the same on his right. 

Linking his fingers in both of theirs, he smiles ever so slightly. “Claire was the sweetest girl I ever got the pleasure of meeting. Claire never thought of me as anything less than human, and if she treated me just as harshly as her family, then maybe I’d never have gotten anywhere.”

“I’m glad you met someone,” Markus murmurs.

Simon lifts his chin and smiles, tears running freely down his cheeks. “Claire. Simon Claire.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so I have multiple plans for a multi-chapter DBH fiction, so idk if any of you are interested in it. If so, please vote in the comments what you'd rather see:
> 
> Human-android swap AU (Connor is a human detective, Hank is an android, etc)  
> Android-swap AU (Kara takes Connor's place, Connor takes Markus's, Markus takes Kara's)  
> Android-swap AU 2 (Chloe takes Connor's place, North takes Markus's, Luther takes Kara's)

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally settled down to write a story for Simon, backstory and all, but unfortunately (or super fortunately), it's going to wayyyy longer than anticipated. This'll probably be one of the only ones in the series with multiple chapters... But Simon's worth it!
> 
> Also, okay, Connor and Markus are soooo hard to write? But it feels super easy to write North, Josh, Simon, etc. so idk about that right now. Sorry if it feels super awkward! Hopefully it'll get better, and if you have any advice, I'd love it haha :)


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